The Red Fox in the Road

    "I'm only human" was all she could say. Her only apology. Not for lack of compassion, but a lack of anything better to say. So he left. He left in every way a person can. He walked to the truck and she didn't try to stop him. The door on the rusted pick-up creaked when he swung it open and rattled when he slammed it shut. An exclamation point on an unspoken sentence. For every could morning he cursed the truck's broken heater and stuttering stutter, right now it gave him the only thing he wanted, or at least the only thing he could have. Distance.
    I'm only human? he thought. What kind of apology was that? He shuck his head, rolling his welling eyes at the thought that she couldn't even say sorry. The thought that he had left the house with out the simple pleasure of knowing she was suffering for what she did.
    He turned right at the stop sign at the end of his road and on to Morrison County road 18 heading West, but most importantly away. As the engine struggled to get up to speed he took a few deep breaths. He had always hated it when she smoked in his truck, and she resented him for chewing tobacco. "A nasty habit" by her estimation, it was one he picked up working for the city his senior year of High School, about the time he and Claire started dating. So with the inescapable stench of generic cigarettes choking his nostrils he put a fat dip of snuff in his lower lip and turned on the radio. Commercials. He turned the radio off and decided he need some quiet.
    All his life James had led an unassuming, undemanding and consequently ordinary life, more or less what he planed for and wanted , but ordinary none the less. He was raised to believe to play hard, you have to work hard. He was raised to never lie or cheat. He was raised on the notion that love lasted forever.
    As he pulled up now to the last stop sign before he reached downtown he saw a tiny  red fox trot slowly out into the road. He watched the little fox's head perk up and it's ears pin back as it returned his gaze. The little fox turned to face James and the rumbling truck. Then it sat back on it's haunches, cocked it's head and continued to observe him with glassy brown eyes. James sat amazed at this rare occurrence for a while, staring eye to eye with nature like that. He expected any second that it would realize what it was doing and leave him, but it didn't move. Over the course of a few minutes the animal began to lose whatever majestic quality it once had and the truck began to inch forward. "Come on!" he groaned as he gave a couple quick taps on his horn. It didn't move. Growing increasingly frustrated he stepped out of his truck and began to stomp towards it. The fox maintained eye contact as he did. James flailed his arms purposefully and harshly to get it to move on. He only got a stare. Finally, after he kicked at it it began to slink away. The fox never took its eyes off of him. He looked around to see if anyone had witnessed this strange event , or if anyone saw him make a complete ass out of himself. He walked to his truck, not at all proud, but overall indifferent. He had other things to think about........
    Once he got into town James pulled into the over sized parking lot of the local hardware store (over sized either because it was too big or there was never more than 2 cars there). More than a hardware store, this place also served James his favorite cup of coffee and helping of conversation. He sat in his truck for a moment, predicting the probable exchange that was about to transpire.
    Ted Wyndell was the owner of the small shop, and was the third Wyndell to do so. A fact which found it's way into every one of his stories. However the way business had been going lately he would likely be the last one as well. Not to mention he and his wife Margaret never had any children. Ted and Margaret didn't dwell on it, but it was common knowledge throughout the town that Margaret was unable to conceive a child. A fact that somehow found its way into every story her neighbors told about her. The two were always there on Sundays, after church, taking inventory and unloading shipments. Ted was a kindly old man who never took his work to seriously but had a habit of using words that were too big for what he was really trying to say, like systematic categorization of implements. He greeted James every Sunday with a ridiculously broad grin and a "Hi-Ya Chief." James hated nicknames. He was proud to be named after his father. Ted, on the other hand, liked to be called Mayor, because he at one time, for one term, held the office. James always called him Ted. Margaret was a much more proper individual. She always gave a sincere hello as she poured him a cup of coffee and always called him by his birth name. They undoubtedly would have a bunch of questions for James, some how thinking life had taken some exciting turn since last weekend. "What's new?" "How's work?" "How's Claire?" He stopped. How's Claire? For a moment he thought he shouldn't go in, but then decided he would just give his usual, nondescript answer of "Fine."
    Ted leaned over a box of nails to say "How ya been Chief?"
    "Good 'n you Ted?"
    "Oh James it's lovely to see you!" Oozed Margaret, rushing to the back room for the percolating pot.
    "How's Claire?" Ted asked. He was always curious about her.
    "Very ill." James decided.
    "Oh no!" They agonized in unison. James couldn't help but chuckle at their simultaneous sincerity, but forced himself to stop when they both looked at him strangely.
    "Yea she's got a bug so I'm getting out of the house."
    "You should be home, caring for her." Margaret suggested.
    "I wouldn't know what to do." James answered somewhat indignantly, narrowing his eyes at the idea that he was some how in the wrong. And at least that was true. He really had no idea what he was going to do. After that the conversation consisted of home remedies and those two commiserating over their own worst ailments. James left with a pleasant goodbye, and with out touching his coffee.
    Out in the parking lot he backed out of his space, trying to plan where he was going now. He certainly couldn't...all of the sudden there was a flash of red in his passenger side mirror. He abruptly stopped and squinted to see the little fox inspecting his exhaust pipe. James slowly but assertively let the pick-up roll out of the space. He wasn't going to play it's game again. Not after it made him look so stupid before. Not this time. It side stepped the rear right tire and watched as he drove past leering at it. Partially out of annoyance and partially out of confusion. Why does that thing keep coming to me?
    Back on the road one thing dominates the view of the downtown area. Gordon Heights. A large jutting of land which seems to rise from the ground without cause. Gordon Heights was locally and colloquially known, for a time, as Joint Point because so many high school aged kids were caught up there experimenting with drugs and alcohol. James had taken his fair share of zealous teenage girls up there in his younger days. Before Claire. It was also the home of a defunct observatory. If for nothing more than a quick shot of nostalgia, James had found his next destination.
    The promontory contained little more than tall unkempt weeds and an unimpressive, brick building left by the University. Such a grand concept for such a small town it seemed to James. The observatory, when it was running, certainly was a sore thumb. It was also the subject of a rampant rumor that it was really a ritual room for a sun-worshipping cult. James laughed to himself thinking of the story that spread through his high school about a kid who had gone in and never come out.
James hoped a broader perspective on the town would give him a new perspective on his current situation. Which was.......Oh yeah. He had no trouble remembering something was upsetting him but he needed a little time coming up with what it was. He sat gaping thoughtlessly down on the town, and his modest home, which was barely visible. He became fixated. Not particularly thinking anything, but he was soon distracted by the feeling that someone else was on top of that hill. Looking around he was almost unsurprised to see the fox staring at him. Sitting back on her haunches, head cocked, just like she had done on the road. He realized he had been callous and unkind to her. James began to feel somewhat sorry for her. Seeing her there, always watching, seemingly waiting for him to do something. Something, but she would never say what. He had the sudden need to touch her. He slowly walked over and gently reached out his hand, but to his surprise she darted off a few feet from him, as if offended by the proposition. He was a bit hurt at first. She had watched and followed him all day, but she would not let him get close to her. Her stare seemed cold now. Like a doctor examining a patient, it seemed almost deducing. She looked at him disapprovingly. How James hated her. Yet how badly he wanted to please her. He got back in his truck and took the winding road back down to main street.
    He thought of the first time he and Claire came up there. He thought of how perfect it all was in high school, and even the years after, and how far it had fallen. He took a deep breath as he came to the realization that he had little choice but to go home to her. She was, after all, the woman he had chosen to spend his life with. They could work out what they were going through. They could handle this like mature adults. Thinking about her now a smirk came across his face. Remembering all the little things she had done that had proven to him that she was the one. Not so long ago. All the... and then, right by the stop sign there she was. In the middle of the road staring at him with those disappointed eyes. Eyes that asked how it had come to this? How were they both here now? That's it! James decided. He made no attempt to slow his truck nor did he swerve to avoid the eminent collision. James raced for it. He egged on the accelerator as he bluntly burst through the intersection, now heading East on Morrison County road 18, but more importantly away. He calmly reassured his own actions with the simple assertion: I'm only human.